


Put Those Colors On, Girl

by second_versesame



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/F, Lesbian AU, Mental Health Issues, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Child Abuse, Past Drug Addiction, Recreational Drug Use, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-04-21 13:28:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14285919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/second_versesame/pseuds/second_versesame
Summary: World of Wonder Alternative School, or WOW, is super small and private and seems to mostly be populated by kids who couldn’t make it anywhere else. Katya guesses she fits that description, now.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've never written for this fandom before, but after reading a few fics I was feeling inspired to give it a try. Hope you enjoy.
> 
> A couple of notes: this fic will deal with a few heavy-ish topics, which will all be tagged as they come up. Also, the high school described here might sound a little wacky but it actually pretty closely resembles a school I attended.
> 
> Lastly, I have a playlist in mind for this fic that I'm too lazy to put on 8tracks, so I'll list the songs here:
> 
> _"Soldier" by Trixie Mattel  
>  "Everybody Knows" by the Dixie Chicks  
> "Shake It Out" by Florence and the Machine  
> "Use Somebody (Cover)" by Brooke White  
> "State of Grace" by Taylor Swift  
> "Rainbow" by Kesha  
> "The Story" by Brandi Carlile_

Katya is acing every test, except for the ones that matter.

She’s consistently getting As, is in all AP classes, and is so beloved by teachers that she’s already gotten offers for college recommendation letters, even though she’s only a sophomore.

She also has no social life to speak of and is averaging about two-to-four hours of sleep per night.

It all comes to a head one night when her mom suggests that she put away her books and go to bed. Katya starts screaming at her, and then, when that doesn’t get a big enough reaction, she picks up a stack of dishes and slams them against the kitchen floor. Her mom gasps as they shatter on the tile, while her dad wordlessly retrieves a broom.

Katya sends herself to her room.

Later, she admits to everything: the pills that she’s been buying off of a fellow AP student for the past six months and snorting for the past two; the hours she spends chain-smoking out her window every night, counting her breaths to keep her entire body from shaking; the loneliness and fear and crushing pressure that eat her alive daily, consuming her every waking moment.

“I need help,” she admits soggily.

Her parents agree. They pull her out of school and find an in-patient rehab facility not too far from home. She spends half the summer there, then enrolls in an alternative school for her junior year.

“This will be a good change,” her mom promises. “The kids here—they’re not like the ones at your old school. They’re more like you.”

Katya doesn’t know what that means—if these kids are junkies or hyperactive or just plain damaged. But she doesn’t miss her old classmates. She didn’t know them well enough to miss them.

World of Wonder Alternative School, or WOW, is super small and private and seems to mostly be populated by kids who couldn’t make it anywhere else. Katya guesses she fits that description, now. On her first day, the counselor-slash-vice-principal meets with Katya in her office.

“Please, call me Michelle,” she insists. “I know a bit about your history, and I just want you to know that we’re here for you. We have lots of student-run support groups covering a variety of issues.”

Michelle seems genuine, like she actually cares if Katya succeeds. She doesn’t say the word “issues” the way a lot of people do, like it’s code for “crazy” or “loser.”

“Thanks,” Katya replies stiffly.

“We try to do right by kids who might feel like they’ve gotten a raw deal,” Michelle continues. “Believe me when I say, you’re not alone in what you’ve been through. We have kids who’ve been kicked out or run away from home, as well as kids who’ve been expelled from other schools.”

Katya knows that Michelle is trying to make her feel better, but it actually makes her feel worse. She has two loving parents. She has no excuse to be such a fuck up.

“I want you to know that you can be yourself,” Michelle says. “As long as you’re treating others with respect.”

Katya nods and doesn’t say anything else until Michelle excuses her. She puts her head down and goes to class, trying not to get too invested in how she does. The curriculum is pretty easy, but Katya’s okay with that, at least for now. She doesn’t know what will happen if she works too hard, and she can’t afford to let her brain break again.

WOW isn’t really cliquey, but there are definitely friend groups. Katya finds hers by hanging out in the informally designated smoking area near the parking lot. Within weeks, she knows a few girls well enough to more or less call them friends. Adore was held back a year; she has a history with drugs, too, but was more of a party girl than Katya. Adore has a smile that’s slow and easy, like her personality, and it puts Katya at ease. Ginger is the opposite, loud and opinionated, with a real Mama Bear quality. She’s theatrical and funny, smart enough that Katya isn’t sure what she’s doing at WOW, but pretty soon Katya learns that Ginger was the victim of some pretty intense bullying back at her old school. Pearl is a total stoner chick who mostly keeps to herself, but Katya gets a vibe that she’s seen some shit she’d rather not discuss.

At the end of her junior year, Michelle calls Katya into her office again.

“Katya, I’m not sure that you’re being challenged here,” Michelle observes.

Katya shifts uncomfortably, mentally cueing up her counterargument. “I can’t go back to my old school,” she begins. “I just—”

“I didn’t say it was a bad thing,” Michelle clarifies. “My sense is that you’re someone who tends to keep your brain very active, always working on a few projects at the same time. Am I right about that?”

Katya nods. There’s no real point in denying it.

“Maybe taking it slow isn’t the worst thing in the world,” Michelle continues. “Maybe being here is exactly what you need.”

When Michelle says that, Katya is surprised by just how much she agrees with her.

\----

At the beginning of the new school year, Michelle has a meeting with each student to discuss their chances of graduating. At WOW, Katya quickly learned, the likelihood of a student graduating in their fourth year is about fifty-fifty. Adore’s situation is not exactly unique.

“When it comes to completing credits, you’re definitely on-track to graduate,” Michelle tells Katya. “But there is the matter of your school service hours.”

“I know,” Katya sighs.

“Look, it doesn’t have to be anything huge. It’s just thirty hours of helping the school community. How about you work on the senior art show?”

“Depends on who I’d have to work with,” Katya replies before she can think to edit that statement.

Michelle seems to find her bluntness funny. Over the last year that Katya’s been here, the two of them have developed something of a rapport. “I think there are a few students who have signed up for the committee already. Let’s see who.” She rifles through some papers on her desk before finding the one she’s looking for. “Ah. Ginger. She’s a friend of yours, right?”

“She is,” Katya acknowledges, grateful for that information.

“Violet. Kennedy,” Michelle reads from her paper. “And Trixie.”

Ridiculously, Katya feels her stomach clench. “Trixie?” she echoes, as though the name is foreign to her.

Michelle gives her a weird look, understandably so. WOW has less than sixty students, and Trixie Mattel definitely stands out. It’s impossible that Katya wouldn’t know who she is.

“So, can I add your name to the list?” Michelle asks.

“Sure,” Katya agrees, even though she already feels herself looking for a way out.

She knows her internal reaction is probably a little over the top, considering the situation. Working on the senior art show is hardly a bad job, especially since she’ll get to hang out with Ginger. The other girls on the committee are pretty cool, too—Katya has mad respect for Kennedy, who’s scrappy and strong and super talented, and Violet, despite being kind of bitchy, is consistently one of the smartest people in Katya’s classes.

But then there’s Trixie. And that’s where Katya’s panic comes in.

Trixie is one of the few genuine go-getters at WOW. She’s quiet, but she’s a hard-worker. She and Katya have two classes together, and Trixie almost always has something intelligent to say.

Katya has also never crushed harder on anyone in her entire life.

And, like, everyone knows that Katya’s gay. It’s never really been an issue for her, even less so now that she’s at WOW, which has multiple LGBTQ support groups. Katya slept with Adore a couple of times over the summer, and she even made out with Violet at one of the few house parties she’s attended. But Katya’s never had a girlfriend. She hasn’t really wanted one. She’s been so preoccupied with making it through school without falling apart, with getting herself to college in more or less one piece, that she hasn’t had time to think about dating.

And yet something about Trixie makes Katya stop dead in her tracks. Trixie is beautiful in the sort of classic, womanly way that reminds Katya why she’s such a lesbian, all wide hips and big boobs and long blonde curls that Trixie will occasionally dye pink or purple for a month or two. She’s tall and tends to wear bright, girly dresses, and despite her rather quiet demeanor, she takes up space in a way that Katya finds intoxicating. Trixie plays guitar, and it’s not unusual that on her way out for a smoke Katya will see Trixie sitting in the grass, strumming a popular hit or working out the melody to a new song of her own. Occasionally in class Trixie will make a joke that no one else in the room gets but Katya, and if she laughs, Trixie will grin back at her in a way that makes Katya feel like she’s melting.

Trixie is the kind of girl that Katya knows she’ll never be, but feels an inexplicable urge to be close to all the same.

The first meeting of the senior art show planning committee happens the following week. The show will take place right before graduation, but it’s a big event and planning has to start at the beginning of the school year. The show provides a chance for seniors to show off a talent or speak about their experience at WOW, and past performances are legendary. Katya’s repeatedly watched the YouTube video of Tatianna’s brilliant spoken word piece, and students still talk about Ivy’s amazing circus routine from a few years ago.

Katya tries not to obsess before the meeting, though she does put a little extra work into getting ready in the morning, opting for one of her vintage-y dresses and fishnets rather than her usual costume of an old band T and jeans. She even puts on some makeup and blowdries her hair, mentally chastising herself through the entire process.

It’s not like Katya is going to show up in her slightly-nicer-than-usual outfit and magically sweep Trixie off her feet. Trixie sees her every day. Katya is still the same mess of a human that she always is, and Trixie is still a normal, hot, probably straight girl who has no reason to give Katya the time of day.

“You’re acting weirder than usual,” Ginger remarks as they walk to the meeting together. “And you know that’s saying something.”

“I’m a little distracted,” Katya replies.

“Uh huh. You’re all dressed up, too. That have anything to do with a certain blonde who we’ll be seeing shortly?”

Katya hasn’t voiced her Trixie-related anxiety to Ginger, but Ginger is maddeningly perceptive.

“Maybe,” Katya mutters. She doesn’t have the energy to play coy with Ginger right now. “Doesn’t matter. She’s so—” She waves her hand through the air in a way that she hopes indicates that Trixie has her shit together, and Katya decidedly does not.

“You ever think that there’s a reason Miss Trixie is at this school instead of someplace else, same as you and me and everyone here?” Ginger asks.

Katya doesn’t have a chance to answer that, because they’ve arrived at the classroom where the meeting is being held. The rest of the committee is already inside. Trixie is sitting on a desk talking to Violet. She’s wearing a short pink skirt with a cropped white T-shirt, and Katya internally curses WOW’s lack of a dress code.

“Hello, ladies!” Kennedy greets when Ginger and Katya walk in.

“Can you believe we’re seniors, gals?” Ginger asks.

Violet smiles. “I know. We finally get to run this shit!”

Trixie produces a spiral-bound notebook from behind her, opening it to a page filled with notes. Katya notices that even her handwriting is pretty. “I think we should first figure out what sorts of acts will be performed, so we know what kind of set to build.”

“Little Miss Efficient,” Ginger murmurs in a tone somewhere between impressed and slightly put-off.

“Uh, yeah. I don’t want a shit show on our watch. Is that a bad thing?” Trixie deadpans. Ginger scowls in response but Katya just snickers. Trixie widens her eyes in Katya’s direction as if the two of them are sharing a private joke. Katya’s heart starts beating faster.

“What’s on your list?” she forces herself to ask, nodding toward Trixie’s notebook.

“Oh!” Trixie jumps off the desk and suddenly she’s right behind Katya. She smells so good; Katya doesn’t know if it’s perfume or body powder or conditioner, much less what the scent itself actually is, but she does know that she really, really likes it.

“I made a list of people who I thought might like to perform,” Trixie explains, holding her notebook up so Katya can see. About half of the students in their class are listed, which still makes for a small group, since there are only about fifteen kids graduating. Trixie has not only noted which students are likely to perform, but also what they’re likely to do for their act.

“Thorough, thoughtful, organized,” Katya declares.

She waits for Ginger to make some comment about Trixie trying to micromanage the show, but when she looks up Ginger is already talking with Kennedy and Violet over by the desks, and Katya and Trixie are alone together near the doorway.

“We’ve decided to work on fundraising,” Violet announces to the room.

“That alright with y’all?” Kennedy asks Trixie and Katya.

Trixie shrugs and nods, then turns back to Katya. “So. I guess you and me are a team, then.”

“Yeah,” Katya says quietly, reminding herself to breathe. “I guess we are.”

\----

When Katya gets home there’s a note taped to the fridge in her mom’s slopey handwriting:

_Open me! I have leftover stir fry and rice inside. And don’t forget to drink plenty of water. Mom and Dad love you very much. They’ll be home late._

She shakes her head and pulls the fridge open, fishing a La Croix out for herself. Her mom has always been a little quirky, but lately that quirkiness has manifested itself in a kind of cutesy, overbearing concern. Katya would be annoyed by it, but she understands. Her parents feel guilty, like if they’d paid more attention, they might not have ended up with a drug-addicted disaster for a daughter. They’re trying, and Katya can’t fault them for it.

Katya finishes her homework in less than an hour and then fixes herself a plate of food. She considers watching something on the flatscreen TV, since she has the house to herself, before she remembers that most shows are still on summer break. And anyway, the shows she tends to gravitate towards don’t even really deserve the flatscreen treatment. She only watches them to get out of her head for a little while.

It’s early still, with at least a couple more hours of daylight, but Katya doesn’t have anything in particular to do. She thinks about Adderall, about how if she had some right now, she’d take it and clean the entire house or write half a screenplay. She still knows the number of the kid she used to buy from, even though her parents got her a new phone. It didn’t matter; she memorized it after the second time he dealt to her.

Katya thinks about calling him while knowing that she won’t. Instead she takes her yoga mat out onto the back deck, stretching herself out slowly before working up to more challenging postures. She’s always been flexible, but it was only during rehab that she began to appreciate the meditative quality yoga could offer her. At first she felt a little silly, like some young hipster play-acting at being chill and wise. But then she realized that the practice actually seems to calm her down, and that that’s too important to give up.

She works up enough of a sweat that she decides to take a shower before bed, and she’s just wrapping up in a towel when her phone dings. She wipes some condensation off the screen to read the text:

_Hey, it’s Trixie! We totally forgot to swap numbers but I got yours from Violet. Looking forward to working on this project with you! You always seem so mysterious lol. Meet after school tomorrow?_

Katya rereads the message twice, ignoring the way her hair is dripping water all over the bathroom floor.

Trixie thinks she’s  _mysterious._

Trixie thinks about her, period.

Fuck, and now she has to respond.

 _Yeah, I know,_ she types, not even sure what part of the message that's meant to acknowledge.  _After school tomorrow is great._  She hits send before she can overthink it.

Trixie’s reply is almost immediate:  _Awesome! See you then. :)_

Katya stares at the screen for way too long before setting her phone down and looking in the mirror. Her face matches the emoticon Trixie just sent: she’s grinning like an idiot.


	2. Chapter 2

“And I’ll leave you with this for today,” Miss Fame says. “Our vulnerability is our greatest strength. I believe in all of you, and I’ll see you next week.”

Katya takes a shaky breath and pulls a crumpled tissue out of her pocket to dab at her eyes. Beside her, Adore seems to be frantically searching for a tissue of her own, so Katya hands her lightly-used one over.

Adore frowns at the tissue, though the expression is hard to read since her face is streaked with tears and running mascara. “That’s kinda gross.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers, bitch,” Katya replies. Adore shrugs and accepts the tissue, wiping at her eyes and nose.

“Fuck, Fame does it to me every time,” Adore mutters as she and Katya file out of the room along with the other students. “How bad is my eyeliner?”

They pause in the hallway so Katya can inspect her face. “Oh, it’s godawful, but it’s also _fantastic_. I think you should do this look every day. Y’know, loads of eyeliner and mascara, and then just sob it all off. In public, like performance art!”

Adore raises an eyebrow at her. “You’re such a fucking weirdo.”

Katya knows Adore well enough to hear the affection in her voice. “That meeting was intense,” she replies.

Katya’s been going to Miss Fame’s weekly substance abuse support group for LGBTQ students since she started at WOW, but this was the first meeting of the school year, and she had almost forgotten just how emotionally grueling the sessions could be.

Adore nods. “I’m glad we went, though.”

“Me too,” Katya agrees. Miss Fame is kind of an enigma: beautiful and serious-seeming on the outside, but full of goofy charm and genuine caring underneath. Katya didn’t expect to like her as much as she does now, but she knows that many students have come to think of her as a lifeline, Katya included.

“What do you have next?” Adore asks.

Katya’s just about to answer when her phone dings. It’s a message from Trixie:

_Meet by flagpole today?_

Katya feels her cheeks flood with warmth as she types out a quick reply: _Sounds good!_

When she looks up, Adore is watching her curiously.

“Sorry, what was your question?” Katya asks, aiming for nonchalant while knowing that she isn’t achieving it.

“Your face just did a three-sixty.”

“One-eighty.”

“Whatever _._ Point is, it changed. Like, a lot.” Adore’s eyes light up in recognition. “Oh my god, was that Trixie?”

Katya huffs out a breath. “I’m gonna kill Ginger.”

Adore looks offended. “What, like Ginger is the only person who can put two and two together? I know you and Trixie are both on that committee thingy, and I also know that you stop breathing whenever she walks into a room. Girl, if you think you’re being subtle—”

“Okay,” Katya interjects, more than ready to curtail this line of discussion. “I got it.”

If Adore wants to say more about that she doesn’t, which Katya appreciates. “Come with me to the bathroom,” she instructs. “We gotta fix you up.”

Katya winces. It figures that the second time that she’s ever worn makeup to WOW would also be the day when Miss Fame has made her cry like a baby. “That bad, huh?”

“Well, it’s not quite _performance art,_ but _…_ ”

Katya lets out a surprised, wheezy laugh and follows Adore down the hall.

\----

Trixie is already waiting at the flagpole by the time Katya gets outside. She has one hand shielding her eyes from the sun and the other steadying a pink bike against her hip. When she sees Katya, she smiles and waves.

“You don’t have your guitar today,” Katya remarks. Immediately she feels like that was the wrong thing to say—overly observant and far from a polite greeting—but Trixie’s smile widens.

“It’s true,” she acknowledges. Trixie’s backpack is stuffed in the basket of her bike and a helmet with the Barbie logo on it is hanging from one of the handlebars. “I don’t have any free periods today, so no time to play it.”

“Do you play other instruments?”

“Not really,” Trixie replies. “I mean, I’d love to. I’ve always wanted to play the autoharp like Dolly Parton. But my grandpa taught me how to play guitar, and since he died it’s felt like a way to connect to him."

“You kinda look like her,” Katya realizes.

“My grandpa?”

Katya laughs. “No, Dolly.”

Trixie shakes her head. “Girl, I wish. Dolly is gorgeous.”

 _So are you_ , Katya thinks but doesn’t say. Instead she clears her throat. “Sorry, let’s try that intro again. Hi, how are you today?”

Trixie grins. “I’m pretty good. How about you? How was your day?”

“It was fine. Nothing out of the ordinary.” Katya doesn’t feel like mentioning the meeting with Miss Fame. Trixie might know her history—it’s not like it’s a huge secret, and WOW is so small that everyone knows everyone’s business. But Katya doesn’t need their first one-on-one conversation to be about her drug problem.

“I thought we could go to that little park right near here, since it’s so nice out,” Trixie suggests. “You don’t have a car in the lot, right?”

Katya shakes her head. Her parents could afford to get her a nice-enough used car, but given everything that’s gone down in the past year or so, she hasn’t wanted to ask, and they certainly haven’t offered. She doesn’t mind, really. Walking is a good way to burn off extra energy.

“You can ride your bike, if you want,” she tells Trixie.

Trixie rolls her eyes. “I’m not gonna just pedal away and leave you in the dust. Who do you think I am? Violet?”

Katya cackles. “Oh, she so would, girl! Just like, ‘Bitch, bye! See ya later!’”

Trixie starts walking her bike out of the school lot and Katya follows alongside her. “With Violet on fundraising, I just picture her, like, demanding money from people. Or being all, ‘Only ugly people wouldn’t donate to us!’” she says in a whiny approximation of Violet's voice.

“So basically, you’re saying that we’re screwed.”

“Oh, _fully_ ,” Trixie agrees. “I mean, when the charmer of the group is _Ginger—”_ Her eyes go wide. “Sorry, I know you guys are friends.”

Katya waves her hand dismissively. “It’s okay. I love Ginger, but I know she can come on a little strong.”

Trixie’s long hair whips Katya’s face slightly as she checks for cars before they cross the street, and Katya tries not to be obvious about breathing in her scent.

“I just get the vibe that Ginger doesn’t like me,” Trixie muses. She pauses for a second before adding, “I thought that about you too, actually.”

Katya’s stomach plummets. “Seriously?”

Trixie nods. “I didn’t think you hated me or anything. But I’ve seen you laughing and chatting with your friends, and then I feel like whenever I’m around you’re pretty quiet. I’m probably reading way too much into something there.”

Katya blinks, unsure of how to respond. The knowledge that Trixie has paid such close attention to her is jarring, but even more startling is the feedback that she’s come across as standoffish. Especially when the way she feels toward Trixie is anything but. 

“So that’s what you meant by mysterious,” she finally says.

Trixie glances over at her as they make their way over to a park bench. “Oh, you caught that, huh?”

“I did.”

Trixie props her bike against the bench and sits down beside Katya. Her blue dress somehow pulls in both directions as her body bends, riding up on her thighs and exposing more of her cleavage all at once. Katya doesn’t know where to look so she settles for her own hands.

“I guess we don’t really know much about each other,” Trixie states. “I mean, everyone at WOW has a past. I didn’t start there as a freshman either.”

“You didn’t?” Katya is surprised. Trixie has always seemed so at home at WOW that Katya figured she’d been there since the beginning of high school.

Trixie shakes her head. “Nope. I started halfway through my sophomore year.”

Katya wants to ask more. She wants to know Trixie’s whole life story, to hear what brought her to WOW and what she writes songs about and why she loves the color pink. Katya wants to know Trixie’s favorite flavor of ice cream and what makes her laugh until she cries.

But despite how honest Trixie has been, Katya can sense a guardedness within her. A bit of a wall between her past and where they’re sitting right now. And Katya can certainly relate to that. She can’t remember a time when she didn’t wish for a blank slate.

So she doesn’t push. “You’re right. We all have a past,” she says. She points toward herself. “And for the record: not so mysterious.”

“That’s what the super interesting people always say,” Trixie teases, lightly touching Katya’s elbow.

If she didn’t know any better, Katya would swear Trixie was flirting.

\----

The two of them actually manage to get some important planning done, formulating a plan for approaching students about performing as well as a loose schedule for set-building and rehearsals. They both agree that Jasmine Masters would make a fabulous M.C., though Trixie admits that she’s intimidated about approaching her.

“I feel like she judges me,” she tells Katya.

“That’s how Jasmine is,” Katya insists. “She doesn’t sugarcoat, but she’s brilliant.”

“I think so too,” Trixie says. “I just have a tough time with people who are more confrontational than me. Which is, like, _any_ amount of confrontational.”

“We’ll talk to her together,” Katya decides. “How’s that sound?”

“Together is good.” Trixie's smile is slow and soft. Katya wants to kiss her so badly that her palms start to sweat. 

“What time is it?” she asks to distract herself.

Trixie checks her phone, sucking in a breath. “Shit. It’s time for me to go.”

“Curfew?” Katya asks, even though it’s still pretty early. She’s internally praying Trixie’s need to leave has more to do with overprotective parents than a potential boyfriend.

Trixie shakes her head, already standing to gather her things. “I gotta get to work.”

“Oh.” Katya feels stupid and a little guilty for not thinking of that. Lots of kids at WOW have jobs. Lots of kids need them, unlike her. "Where do you work?”

“That little Italian restaurant near the mall,” Trixie replies a bit brusquely.

Katya knows the place she's talking about. It’s usually pretty busy. She’s surprised they’d hire someone so young.

Trixie somehow manages to fit her long hair under her helmet. She looks incredibly cute, but also a little distracted. “I’m glad we got to chat,” she says.

“Me too,” Katya agrees, though she feels like without her realizing it the energy has shifted between them in the past couple minutes, like she’s a couple of steps behind, somehow.

“I’ll text you,” Trixie promises. Before Katya can say another word she’s hopped on her bike and pedaled out of the park.

Katya sits on the bench for a few more minutes, watching the sun begin to set and trying to keep her head from spinning.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains some recreational drug use and use of the c-word.

Katya doesn’t hear from Trixie over the weekend—not that she was expecting to, even if a tiny, annoying part of her held out hope that she might—but on Monday morning, Trixie texts to suggest that they meet with Jasmine soon. Katya feels a brief stab of guilt that she’s let Trixie be the one to contact her first each time, that in her anxiety about revealing too much she’s essentially forced Trixie to initiate their every interaction, so she writes back immediately with a promise that she’ll arrange the meeting with Jasmine today.

Katya knows she spent too much of the weekend turning over her conversation with Trixie in the park. But she feels like after months of keeping her feelings inside a tightly locked box, she’s opened the top up a crack and now has to examine the contents. She and Trixie _talked_. Not just in Katya’s mind, but in real life. And they got along. Trixie seemed to actually enjoy spending time with her, and Katya certainly enjoyed spending time with Trixie. The moments when Trixie would brush a hand against her elbow or laugh at her joke or tell Katya she had a good point about something have been playing on a loop in Katya’s brain since the second Trixie rode away on her bike.

But then there were a few odd moments as well. Like Trixie’s concern about people not liking her. And the almost frantic way she packed up her things and sped off. In a weird way, it makes Katya like Trixie more—the knowledge that she has secrets too, that maybe she isn’t quite as perfect as Katya had imagined. Trixie is a real flesh and blood human, not just a fantasy.

Katya doesn’t think she’s ever been so intrigued by another person.

After school they meet up by the flagpole again. Today Trixie has her bike and is wearing her guitar. Her big backpack is stuffed in the basket of the bike like last time, and a denim jacket is draped over the seat. It was cool in the morning but is considerably warmer now, and she looks comfortable and pretty in her white tank top and flowy skirt.

“And I thought _I_ brought too much to school,” Katya comments. Trixie is smiling but does look mildly overwhelmed with all the items she’s attempting to balance. “Can I take something?”

“I’ve got it,” Trixie says quickly, before glancing at Katya’s face and seeming to reconsider. “Okay, how about the guitar?”

“Sure,” Katya agrees, though already she feels anxious about being responsible for something that clearly matters a lot to Trixie. Trixie eases the strap of the guitar over Katya’s smaller frame, and Katya cradles it gingerly.

Trixie chuckles at her. “You’re not going to hurt it.”

“I wouldn’t bet on that.” Katya lightly strokes her fingers over the strings. “Huh. I don’t know if I’ve ever actually held one of these.”

Trixie’s eyes widen. “Really? Wow. Well, it’s super old, but I love it.” Something about the way she says that gives Katya the feeling that Trixie probably has a name for her guitar, and that thought makes Katya want to kiss her again.

“I could teach you how to play sometime,” Trixie offers.

Katya has never in her life wanted to play an instrument. She doesn’t even really listen to music, and when she does, it tends to be serious and foreign, not the soft, folksy pop that she knows Trixie favors. But her mind flashes to a mental image of Trixie behind her, gently pressing her fingers into the right position, Katya’s head flush with the crook of her sweet-smelling neck, and suddenly Katya wants to learn the guitar more than anything.

“Yeah, maybe so,” she says softly.

“So, Jasmine?” Trixie prompts.

Katya nods. “Right. Follow me.” She starts walking out of the lot, in the direction of the spot where she knows Jasmine likes to hang out after school on Mondays. Katya can’t help but think about Trixie calling her mysterious, about how maybe the way she’s acting right now is playing into that descriptor.

They round the corner, Trixie trailing slightly behind as she walks her bike, until they come to a big blue van. Katya knocks twice on the window and the passenger’s side door swings open.

“Girl!” Jasmine greets with a huge smile. “It has been a _minute_! How are ya?”

Katya smiles back. She and Jasmine tend to run in different circles at school, but on Katya’s first day at WOW Jasmine offered her a blunt when Katya went out for a smoke, and even though Katya declined, they’ve been friends ever since. Jasmine comes across like she’s full of attitude, but Katya quickly discerned that she’s also one of the genuinely kindest people at WOW.

“I’m good, I’m good,” Katya replies. “How’s life treating you?”

“Well, I’m kicking it with this juvenile delinquent,” Jasmine says, jerking her thumb toward Willam, who’s sitting in the driver’s seat. “So, y’know. Same old, same old.”

“Not a juvenile delinquent!” Willam protests. “Because I’m not a juvenile! I am nineteen motherfuckin’ years old, thank ya very much!”

“And still hanging around the high school you got kicked out of,” Katya quips.

Willam’s mouth drops open in delighted shock. “You weren’t this sassy the last time I saw you!”

“Sure she was,” Jasmine murmurs. “You just talk too much and didn’t hear her.”

Willam swats at Jasmine, craning his neck to see around Katya toward Trixie. “And who’s that pretty bitch you got with you? Is that Trixie Mattel? You wanna buy some weed, kitty girl?”

Katya turns around to look at Trixie, who appears to be on the verge of a panic attack. Katya doesn’t blame her. Everybody at WOW remembers when Willam got kicked out last year after repeatedly being caught dealing pot at school. Willam doesn’t hang around WOW too much anymore, but he’s the hook-up for a couple of kids at school, Jasmine included.

Katya knows that her parents and Miss Fame and most sane people would likely disapprove of her decision to occasionally hang around a known drug dealer, but she rationalizes that choice with the facts that Willam A) only deals pot, and B) she’s never, ever bought from him. And maybe in some fucked up way it’s like a test of strength, like she won’t really know if she’s better unless she gets herself dangerously close to the edge.

“Hi,” Trixie says awkwardly.

“Please, continue to stand there uncomfortably and make this look even more like a drug deal,” Willam deadpans.

Jasmine rolls her eyes. “You are a bitch,” she informs Willam, before finally stepping out of the car and slamming the door.

“Love you too, cunt!” Willam calls through the open window. Jasmine throws her head back in laughter as Willam starts up the car and drives away.

“What can I do for you ladies?” Jasmine asks once it’s just the three of them.

“Well, we have something to ask you,” Katya begins. “First of all, we both think you’re great.”

“Why, thank you,” Jasmine says. “Y’know, I just speak my truth. Even if people sometimes don’t wanna hear it.”

“I admire that,” Trixie says. Katya notices her hands flexing anxiously against her bike handles.

“And we’re working on the senior art show,” Katya continues. “We would love for you to M.C.”

Jasmine arches an eyebrow. “Hold on a sec, I think I need this.” She pulls an Altoid tin from her pocket and cracks it open, revealing a joint and a lighter.

“Right here?” Trixie gasps. “We’re, like, a hundred feet from school!”

Jasmine rolls her eyes again. “Eh. Life’s short. Who has time to worry about all that?” She brings the joint to her lips and lights it, taking a long hit and letting the smoke out in a smooth, steady stream. “Now, y’all want me to M.C.? How’s Miss Michelle feel about that?”

Katya swallows hard as the smell of the weed reaches her. She was never a huge pot smoker, but the idea of being altered sounds pretty appealing right now, especially since she knows she can’t have it. The whole gateway drug argument might not be true for some people, but for her it sure is. If she starts letting herself have little allowances, she doesn’t want to think about where she could end up.

“Michelle supports our vision,” Trixie says with certainty. So much certainty, in fact, that Katya wonders if they’ve had a private conversation on the matter.

“And I’m your vision?” Jasmine sounds skeptical. “You know I have a lot to say.”

“And we love what you have to say,” Katya assures her. “I think maybe we could learn a thing or two from you.” She cautions a sideways glance at Trixie. “I know I could.”

Jasmine seems to consider that. She takes another hit and nods slowly as she exhales. “Alright, I’m down. Long as you don’t play me for a fool.”

“We would never,” Trixie promises.

“You’re full of surprises, Miss Trix,” Jasmine remarks. “I thought you didn’t like me too much.”

Trixie looks surprised. “Seriously? I thought _you_ didn’t like _me!”_

“The curse of the resting bitch face,” Katya muses. “The catalyst for all our great wars.”

Jasmine chuckles. “You got a weird one here,” she says to Trixie.

Katya can’t help but watch Trixie’s reaction to that comment, and Trixie is all smiles as she says, “Don’t I know it. But I kinda like her.”

“Me too,” Jasmine agrees. “Shit, where’re my manners? You girls want some?” She holds the joint out in front of her.

Katya shakes her head. “None for me, thanks.”

Trixie studies the joint for a second, then slides her gaze up to Katya. “Y’know, sure.” She accepts the joint from Jasmine, holding it in a way that makes it clear she’s way out of her depth.

“Oh, you’re a first-timer?” Jasmine asks.

“That obvious, huh?” Trixie winces.

“No tea, no shade, no pink lemonade, but girl, you look terrified.”

“You don’t have to,” Katya tells Trixie, suddenly feeling like she’s in an after school anti-drug PSA.

“I wanna. I don’t work today,” Trixie replies. She holds the joint to her lips, inhales, and—to her credit—holds the smoke in for about five seconds before it all comes coughing out.

Jasmine smiles as Trixie hands her back the joint. “You’re gonna have fun. You’ll keep an eye on her, right, Katya?”

“Of course,” Katya promises, steadying Trixie’s bike as Trixie continues to cough.

“I gotta jet,” Jasmine says. She gives Trixie a final once-over before glancing back at Katya. “Like I said, full of surprises.”

“I can’t believe I did that,” Trixie manages to get out as Jasmine saunters down the street. “That was stupid.”

“It’s one hit off a joint,” Katya murmurs. “It’s hardly going to ruin your chances at getting into college.”

When Trixie doesn’t respond Katya sighs, recognizing that she’s standing in the middle of the sidewalk with a guitar, a bike, and a suddenly-high Trixie on her hands. She manages to guide them toward a nearby tree and props the bike against it, peeling the guitar off her body and helping Trixie get to the ground beside her.

Trixie laughs at nothing. “This is _weird_.”

“I know.”

“I’ve never been high before.”

Katya pats her leg. “I gathered.”

“You didn’t want any?”

Katya turns to look at her. Trixie’s eyes are red but bright. Curious and open. Katya doesn’t want to lie to her.

“I did want some,” she admits. “I wanted some really fucking badly. But I can’t have it. I have a… history.” When Trixie looks confused, Katya adds, “Not with pot. With pills. But now I can’t really go near any substances, or I could lose all the progress I’ve made.”

Trixie lets out a loud breath. “Shit, Katya, I’m sorry. Isn’t that hard? I mean, just to be around it?”

“It is,” Katya acknowledges. “Not as hard as it used to be, though.”

“Do you want me to go?” Trixie asks. “I can get a, like, Uber or a… a… what is it? Big thing with the wheels?”

“Bus?”

Trixie snaps her fingers. “That’s it!” She starts giggling again. “Bus. Bussss. Funny word.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Katya tells her. “I’ll stay here with you.”

Trixie's giggles come to a stop. “You’re a good person. You make people feel good.”

Katya feels her stomach tighten. “Thank you.”

“This was stupid,” Trixie says again. She’s staring straight ahead, pulling blades of grass up with her fingers.

“It’s not that stupid,” Katya assures her, her own mind unwillingly flashing to the dozens of stupid things she’s done while high.

Trixie shakes her head. “I can’t afford to be stupid. I got all inspired by Jasmine’s 'life's too short' stuff, and I wanted to be _cool_.” She looks at Katya. “I wanted you to think I was cool.”

“I do,” Katya says, too softly. She clears her throat. “What do you mean you can’t afford to be stupid?”

Trixie looks away again, her shoulders slumping forward. She seems tired, like the weariness of her existence is hitting her all at once. Katya knows the feeling. “It’s a long story. I want to tell you, but I just, I don’t—”

“It’s okay,” Katya accepts.

Trixie’s big eyes widen. “Really? Cliffhangers are bullshit.”

“They are,” Katya will allow. “But it’s your life. You don’t owe me anything.”

Trixie’s next exhale sounds immensely grateful. “I’ll explain it all soon,” she promises.

“I know.” Katya takes Trixie’s hand before she can let herself second-guess it. “I told you: I’m not going anywhere.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the lovely comments!
> 
> This chapter contains mentions of past child abuse as well as some underage drinking.

Katya stays until Trixie swears that she’s okay to bike home. Katya offers to come with her or order an Uber, but Trixie is insistent that she can make it, and by that point she seems sober enough that Katya feels like it would be weird for her to push back. She does make Trixie promise to text once she’s home safe, which Trixie thankfully obliges.

The next day at WOW, Trixie doesn’t seek Katya out. She doesn’t text Katya and she isn’t hanging out by the flagpole after school. Katya tries not to take it too personally. When she thinks about the situation objectively, she can see why Trixie might want to keep her distance. It’s true that despite the odd intensity of their few interactions, the two of them barely know one another. They’ve essentially hung out twice, and both times have ended in weirdly personal conversations that Katya didn’t see coming. Katya doesn’t think she revealed too much too soon about herself—the topic of her past with drugs had more or less come up organically—but Trixie may feel differently. Or maybe Trixie feels embarrassed or uncomfortable for a myriad of other reasons that have little to do with Katya and much more to do with whatever past trauma she clearly doesn’t want to talk about.

Over the next week or so, the two of them communicate via some polite if slightly stilted texts and a few awkward smiles in the hall. They finalize the list of performers for the art show, each taking half of Trixie’s list and talking with people individually. It’s Trixie’s idea, and Katya is quick to agree.

She tries to refocus on school. WOW has a rotating series of socially-minded classes called Eyes on Culture that are consistently Katya’s favorites. Last semester she took a spirituality class with Raja, and this semester she’s taking Gender is a Construct. The class is co-taught by Peppermint and Sasha, two of WOW’s newest teachers, but already Katya can tell they’re going to do great things for the school. She’s quickly found herself incredibly engaged in the curriculum, speaking up in class more than she ever has previously. 

Katya’s also been making an effort to smoke a little less, opting for spending her free periods in the library instead. The librarian, Mrs. Davis, has been at WOW forever. She’s a little older than most of the other teachers, warm and friendly without being overbearing, and Katya can talk to her with ease. One afternoon Katya finds herself alone in the library without any work to do, and Mrs. Davis asks if she’d like to make a poster to hang off her desk.

“What do you want it to say?” Katya asks.

Mrs. Davis props a hand on her hip. “‘There’s _always_ time for a novel!’” she says in a loud, funny voice.

Katya laughs. “You’ve got it.”

Mrs. Davis brings over a big poster board and paint pens. Katya thinks that she’ll go off to shelve books or something, but Mrs. Davis surprises Katya by sitting down at the table beside her with a large recipe book.

“What’s that for?” Katya inquires.

“I’m thinking of starting a cooking club,” Mrs. Davis explains. She chuckles. “You know, in my mountains of free time. Would you be interested?”

“I don’t know,” Katya answers truthfully. She doesn’t particularly like to cook, but she likes Mrs. Davis and thinks she would enjoy spending more time with her.

“We’ll see. I wouldn’t mind getting better at cooking myself. I’m sure the other Mrs. Davis wouldn’t mind that, either.” Katya must look confused, because Mrs. Davis adds, “My wife.”

“Oh.” Katya didn’t realize Mrs. Davis was married to a woman.

“For almost ten years now,” Mrs. Davis says. “It’s okay if you’re surprised. Sometimes people are. They see the old librarian with ‘Mrs.’ in her name and assume… whatever they assume. But we all have our own story, don’t we?”

Katya nods as she slowly shades in a bubble letter.

“Anyway,” Mrs. Davis continues. “Maybe it won’t be cooking. What extra clubs would you add, if you could choose?”

Katya thinks about that. She doesn’t really know. Until this new school year, she pretty much avoided getting too involved with the school community beyond her classes and Miss Fame’s group.

“I like yoga,” she offers, because it’s something.

Mrs. Davis smiles. “That’s fantastic! I wish I’d been into yoga when I was your age. I know that Courtney has been wanting to lead a guided meditation series—maybe you could talk to her about adding a yoga component. You could even lead it yourself.”

Katya frowns. “What, like co-teaching a class? With an actual teacher?”

“It happens all the time. As a matter of fact, Alyssa was a student here at WOW, years ago, and started teaching dance classes in her senior year. Then Michelle hired her as a paid P.E. teacher after she graduated college.”

“Wow. That’s cool,” Katya replies. She tries to picture Alyssa as a student but has a hard time seeing her as anything but the confident, charismatic adult she is now. “I don’t know about me, though.”

“Just something to think about,” Mrs. Davis says gently. “You still have time. Courtney’s very easy to work with.”

“It’s not fair that someone so pretty is so intelligent,” Katya says before realizing that might not have been appropriate.

But Mrs. Davis laughs. “Believe me, Courtney’s fellow teachers feel the same way. And get this: not only is she intelligent and pretty, but she is also incredibly kind. I’d encourage you to talk to her.”

“Okay,” Katya replies, unsure if she’ll actually follow through on that.

They work side-by-side for a few more minutes in relative silence, the only sound coming from Katya’s markers and Mrs. Davis’s page flipping. Once Katya is done she shows the poster to Mrs. Davis, who claps her hands together happily.

“Great work!” she tells Katya. “Thanks for helping, kiddo.” She gives Katya another warm smile. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

\----

About a week and a half after what Katya is now internally referring to as the weed fiasco, Trixie sends Katya a text inviting her to a party at Shea’s house that weekend. The text contains just the bullet points, too little information for Katya to discern if this is a peace offering or an invitation for them to talk or god forbid a date.

Katya gets the text when she’s out for a smoke—she _has_ been cutting back, but she certainly hasn’t gone cold turkey—and is spending way too long trying to craft a response when she actually sees Trixie walking outside with her guitar. She’s talking with Kim, and they must both have free periods like Katya because it’s only the middle of the day.

Katya takes a few more drags of her cigarette before deciding that she doesn’t have the energy or desire to play games. She stubs out her cigarette and approaches Trixie and Kim, who by this point are sitting on a fuzzy purple blanket spread out across the grass.

Trixie’s face lights up when she sees Katya, which feels like a good sign. “Hey!” she greets. “I just texted you.”

“I saw,” Katya replies, aiming for casual. She turns to Kim. “Hi there.”

“Hey Katya,” Kim says. Katya doesn’t know Kim very well, but she’s always gotten a good vibe from her. Kim’s a little shy, but very sweet, and Katya knows that she and Trixie are good friends.

“Sorry I’ve been kinda MIA,” Trixie says, sounding a tad sheepish. “It’s been a busy week, and—”

“That’s okay,” Katya tells her. “I haven’t really reached out either.” She can feel the awkwardness seeping into this interaction, not overwhelming but definitely palpable. But she really does want to get as much of a read on this party situation as possible. “So, Shea’s having a party?”

Trixie nods. “Yeah, her parents are out of town. It shouldn’t be anything too crazy, just a few people and, like, a pizza.” She says it in a rush, as though to assure Katya that this party isn’t likely to jeopardize her sobriety.

“Yeah, I hate parties, and even I’m going,” Kim adds.

Trixie puts a hand around her mouth conspiratorially, stage-whispering to Katya, “She’ll go anywhere there’s a pizza.”

Kim slaps Trixie’s arm. “I told you, bitch, do-nut come for me! But also, you’re totally right.”

Trixie laughs, though it’s more of an excited scream.

“Shea would be okay with me coming?” Katya asks.

“Girl, Shea would invite the whole school,” Trixie says. “It’s Kim and I who asked her to keep it small.”

That makes sense. Katya has always gotten the sense that Shea’s a bit more outgoing than Trixie and Kim. She looks at Trixie’s face, trying to decipher any hidden meanings, to crack the code of what this invitation means. Trixie’s eyes look genuinely hopeful, and her mouth is on the edge of a smile, like she’s waiting for Katya to give her a reason to fully commit.

How can Katya say no?

“Alright,” she decides. “I’ll be there.”

\----

The day of Shea’s party Katya’s parents have a million errands to run, so Katya does yoga on the back porch and cleans her room with the movie _Contact_ playing loudly from her laptop in the background. She told her parents about the party, though she made it sound more like a school function. Part of her expected some push-back or concern, but they honestly seemed so delighted that Katya had people to hang out with that they just told her to be home by eleven.

Katya invites Adore over a couple of hours before the party, ostensibly to help her get ready, though really it’s for her own sanity. She needs someone else to talk to so she doesn’t completely spin out, and even though Katya would usually consider herself closer with Ginger, she’s pretty sure that Ginger’s energy will only make her more anxious about how she’ll come across to Trixie. Adore feels like the safer option.

Adore lies perpendicular on Katya’s bed with her knees bent and her feet on the floor, bleached hair spread across Katya’s bedspread and Doc Martins tapping out a slow beat against the wood. With permission, she snagged a bag of chips from Katya’s cupboard, and she’s finished about a third of it in the time she’s been here. Already Katya knows she’ll be finding crumbs in her bed.

“You should show off your abs,” Adore informs Katya, who’s been mulling over outfit options for the last twenty minutes. “Y’know, give her a little preview.”

“Of what? We’re not dating,” Katya says deliberately, as though by speaking the words aloud she might be able to stop obsessing over the concept.

“Yet.” Adore sits up, pops another chop into her mouth, and goes over to Katya’s closet. It’s more organized than it was yesterday, but that isn’t saying much. Katya is standing at her dresser, pawing through her shirt drawer.

“Oh, this is _sick_ , dude,” Adore exlaims, holding up an intricately-embroidered black peasant skirt that Katya found in a vintage shop last year.

Katya considers the skirt. “Not too _Little House on the Prairie_?”

Adore shakes her head. “Not with a crop top.”

They manage to find one in Katya’s drawer that ends up being more or less a thin piece of fabric stretched across Katya’s boobs. Katya thinks she looks kind of like Carrie Bradshaw in the episode of _Sex and the City_ where she throws up on the beach, but Adore informs her that she looks hot, especially with the addition of red lipstick and eyeliner.

“Trixie won’t be able to resist you,” Adore proclaims, giving Katya a final once over. “Party!”

Katya arrives at Shea’s house a cool fifteen minutes after Trixie told her to be there. Shea answers the door excitedly, like Katya is just the person she’s been waiting for.

“I’m so glad you could make it!” she says, pulling Katya into a one-armed hug. Shea seems buzzed but not drunk, though the red Solo cup dangling from her hand looks almost empty. As Katya looks around she sees about a half dozen people from school—including Kim, who’s talking to Naomi on the couch—and a couple more she doesn’t recognize. There’s music on, but it’s not particularly clubby, and the atmosphere is pretty chill. Instantly Katya feels herself starting to relax. 

“Grab a drink, if you want,” Shea tells her. “Kitchen’s through there, bathroom’s right next to it, and Trixie’s out back by the pool.”

Katya’s brain is stuck more on Trixie’s name than anything else, but she tries to play it cool. “You have a pool? Awesome.”

Shea shrugs. “It’s small, but yeah, it's nice. My mom does pretty well.”

Katya can see that. Shea’s house isn’t enormous, but it’s certainly well-appointed. Katya lingers with Shea for a couple more seconds until she feels like it’s appropriate to find Trixie. She doesn’t bother with a drink, instead making a beeline for the open French doors that Shea pointed towards.

It’s considerably quieter outside, and despite the two porch lights hanging overhead, Katya takes a second to adjust to the darkness and lack of sound. Shea was right about the pool—it is small, and Katya quickly realizes that there’s only one person out here: Trixie. She’s sitting on the edge of the pool with her feet dangling in the water. Her back is facing Katya, and when Katya says her name, Trixie jumps a little.

“Sorry,” Katya murmurs, pulling off her shoes and hiking up her skirt so she can sit down beside Trixie. It’s a little breezy out, but the water is warm on her feet.

“It’s okay,” Trixie tells her. She’s holding a beer and smiling. “It’s nice to see you.”

“You too,” Katya replies. Trixie looks really, really pretty. Her blonde hair somehow seems even more voluminous than before, and she’s wearing a yellow romper that leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination. Her makeup is a little more amped up than how she wears it at school, but even in the blue light of the pool Katya can still see plenty of softness in her eyes.

“You’re not in with Kim,” Katya observes.

Trixie takes a sip of her beer and then sets it down on the concrete beside her. “She and Naomi are talking about fashion. After a few minutes they started sounding like the grownups in Charlie Brown.”

“Ah.” Katya flexes her toes. She wishes she’d had the forethought to paint her toenails. Trixie’s are red and look freshly painted.

Trixie turns to face at her, and she blinks like she's just now realizing what Katya is wearing. Katya would swear Trixie's gaze lingers on her abs. “I didn’t realize you were so… fit.”

“I think that’s a compliment?”

Trixie laughs and shoves her lightly. “It is. Do you row crew, or something?”

“Well, I’m not a douchebag frat boy, so no,” Katya replies, earning another laugh from Trixie. “Yoga. It keeps me grounded. Sort of.” Normally she might worry about coming off as pretentious, but the way Trixie nods, Katya thinks she gets it.

“That’s cool. I kind of feel that way about music.” Trixie sighs. “I think I owe you an explanation.”

“I told you: you don’t owe me anything,” Katya repeats, though she’d be lying if she said she didn’t want to know what Trixie might reveal.

“It’s weird, y’know?” Trixie says. “We’ve known each other for a year, and yet we’ve never really _known_ each other. But suddenly it’s like… like we went from zero to sixty, or something. I can’t quite figure it out. I feel guarded around a lot of people, but I don’t feel that way around you.”

Katya nods because she doesn’t trust herself not to say something stupid, but she forces herself to keep her eyes on Trixie’s.

“Katya,” Trixie continues. “I got emancipated when I was fifteen. My stepdad was really shitty to my mom and siblings and me—like, super physically and emotionally abusive. And after a few years I couldn’t take it, so I told my mom that I would leave if she wouldn’t. I really thought I’d called her bluff. But she actually gave parental consent for me to be emancipated. I think she thought it was easier. I’d been working odd jobs a while at that point, babysitting and stuff, and I was able to find a place to live for a little while, but it turned out to be a bad situation and I had to leave. I was terrified that I would have to go back home, but I went to a shelter and that’s where I met Michelle. She was volunteering there. I’d just barely been able to stay at my old school, but she told me about WOW and I transferred as soon as I could. Michelle helped me get back on my feet. She got the manager of the restaurant to hire me even though I'm so young, and she also helped me find a better place to live. It’s not great, and I wouldn’t want to stay there forever, but at least it’s safe. And hopefully I’ll be able to get a scholarship and a housing grant for college.”

“Oh,” Katya says softly. “Oh, Trixie.” Her heart actually physically hurts, hearing Trixie's story.

Trixie takes a deep breath. “When I got all weird at that park, and then again after I got high—that wasn’t about you, if that’s what you’re thinking. I just—I have to stay on top of my shit, or things could go really bad for me. I’m entirely responsible for every aspect of my life.”

“I get it,” Katya murmurs. Even if she can’t understand entirely, she can relate. “Your siblings?”

Trixie looks a little tearful. “We stay in touch as much as we can. My stepdad picked on me more than them, thankfully, and I think they just try to steer clear of him whenever possible.”

Katya covers Trixie’s hand with her own, and Trixie flips her palm over, interlocking their fingers. Katya feels butterflies, because she can’t not, but the feeling is secondary. She knows this isn’t about romance right now. “I’m so sorry you went through that.”

Trixie offers a small, sad smile. “Thank you. Me too.”

“Who else knows?”

“The whole story? Well, I can't afford counseling, but I meet with Courtney every week. So, I guess it's her, Michelle, Kim and now you. That’s it.”

Katya breathes in slowly, the heaviness of that settling inside her. “Thank you for trusting me.”

“I get the sense that you’re one of the least judgmental people I’ve ever met,” Trixie replies. “I don’t know why, but I just do.”

“I would never judge you,” Katya tells her honestly. “Especially after what you just told me. I can’t even imagine…” She fumbles for the words to express what she means, finally settling on, “You’re very strong.”

Trixie squeezes her hand. “So are you.”

They sit outside for a while, the sounds of the party drifting to greet them occasionally. They don’t have to say anything; being here with Trixie, Katya feels less alone than she has in a long while, and somehow she knows, without the words being spoken aloud, that Trixie feels the exact same way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For reference, the Carrie Bradshaw outfit Katya is referring to is this one: https://i.pinimg.com/originals/cc/c7/af/ccc7afbda7482828976405c34cf74219.jpg


	5. Chapter 5

At the beginning of October, Michelle starts attending the senior art show meetings, bringing along Bianca, who will be overseeing the committee for the rest of the school year. Katya hasn’t been in any of Bianca’s classes, but she knows that despite her reputation as a bit of a hard-ass, Bianca is Adore’s favorite teacher.

Bianca and Michelle quickly make it clear that they want to get a jumpstart on fundraising. Michelle explains that most of the fundraising for the art show will ultimately come from the parents, but that she always encourages at least a couple of events that allow students to contribute. It’s a bit of an awkward predicament, Katya recognizes, because while many of the students at WOW are less financially stable than even the average high schooler, WOW’s whole mission is about student empowerment. Which, as it turns out, is often easier to apply in a classroom setting than when it comes to any sort of fundraising. And since there just isn’t extra money in the budget to make the show as special as the seniors consistently want it to be, WOW almost always has to rely on parent contributions to pick up the slack.

Katya is surprised by just how vocal Michelle is in her dislike for the parent-sponsored events, a dislike which largely seems to stem from the fact that it excludes certain students from being involved with fundraising—namely, students without families who can contribute.

A category which Katya now knows includes Trixie.

In the immediate aftermath of Shea’s party, Katya wasn’t sure exactly how to act around Trixie. She wanted to make sure that Trixie felt comfortable with her, but she also didn’t want to go overboard. The problem, of course, is that going overboard is what has always come naturally for Katya. That’s invariably been her downfall throughout her life: wanting everything—love, attention, success, drugs—a little too much. When she was in rehab, the counselors talked to her about the important of balance, and Katya feels like she’s more or less been able to achieve that at WOW. Her approach of not getting too invested in any one thing, of staying ever-so-slightly on the periphery at all times, has been fairly successful, if a little isolating.

But Trixie changes the game. With Trixie, Katya feels like she’s jumped into the deep end of the pool with all of her clothes on, and she doesn't want to get out. She feels so much for Trixie in the romantic sense—Katya’s crush has only intensified in the weeks since they’ve gotten to know each other better. And she also _feels_ for her, is invested in Trixie’s emotional and physical well-being to a degree that terrifies her. The fact that they’ve skipped a few steps, going from acquaintances to confidants in a matter of weeks, only makes everything that much more intense and confusing. Katya doesn’t know what to do with herself. She keeps trying to take things slow, to stay present and not spin out.

It’s easier said than done.

Now it’s been a few weeks since the party, and things between the two of them have settled into what on-paper looks like a steadily blossoming friendship. They’ll eat lunch together a couple of times a week and text on-and-off throughout the evening. They’ve had a few more after school meetings, enough so that just the sight of the flagpole in the afternoon makes Katya’s heart start beating faster as she instinctively looks for Trixie beside it. But they haven’t hung out on the weekends or gone to any more parties. Maybe Trixie is tired of being the one to initiate their contact and is waiting for Katya to invite her to do something, or maybe she doesn’t want their friendship to stretch too far beyond the confines of school. Either way, Katya hasn’t worked up the nerve to ask Trixie over or suggest an activity for just the two of them. She still doesn’t trust herself around Trixie.

Katya is mulling all of this over in the nearly empty auditorium as she, Ginger and Violet prep a booth for the Halloween Senior Dance, the first of many dance-related fundraisers the committee has planned. More accurately, Ginger is scowling at the booth while Violet complains about Michelle and Katya pretends that she’s listening.

“Y’all think some paint will help?” Ginger mutters. “This thing looks like it’s been through a war.”

Katya has to acknowledge that the booth does look kind of rough. The descriptor of “booth” may even be a little generous; it’s basically a few two-by-fours nailed together into a makeshift table with a blank slat up top for a sign.

“This isn’t exactly what I had in mind,” Violet remarks, wrinkling her nose at the booth and the single can of grayish brown paint sitting beside it.

“I’m sorry we don’t have something more up to your standards, Your Majesty,” Bianca calls from the other side of the room, where she’s working on her laptop and loosely overseeing them. “Where’s that creativity I’ve been hearing all about?”

“It’s impossible to be creative with paint that looks like puke,” Violet replies. Bianca just gives her a sharp look and points at the sticker reading _Not Today, Satan!_ that’s stuck to the back of her laptop.

“Look, it’ll be dark at the dance,” Katya points out, trying to keep the peace. “And we’ll put, like, cobwebs or something over it. Lean into the distressed look and make the puke paint seem like a choice instead of a, y’know…”

“Punishment?” Violet offers. “Is there even extra money for cobwebs?”

“Michelle says we can’t spend any money before the dance,” Ginger informs them. “And since this’ll be the first thing people see when they walk in, she told me that the booth has to have information about what the money is going towards.”

“You think students really care about where their money is going at a _dance_?” Violet shoots back.

“Michelle said—”

“Fuck Michelle!”

“ _Excuse me!_ ” Bianca bellows. “I think that’s about enough of that!”

Katya blinks a couple of times, bewildered. She doesn’t know how she got in the middle of an argument over a stupid booth at a silly school dance, of all things.

“Looks like you guys could use some help,” comes a soft and welcome voice from the doorway. Katya has never been so glad to see Trixie. She resists the urge to run to her. “What’s going on?”

“I think we’ve hit a wall,” Katya replies, tilting her head between Ginger and Violet, who are glaring at one another. “Creatively speaking.”

“Ah.” Trixie nods in recognition as she fully enters the room and inspects the booth in question. “Well. This is what we have to work with?”

“Impressive, isn’t it?” Violet sneers.

Ginger huffs out a breath. “Vi, will you just shut the—”

“Do we have any other decorations?” Trixie asks, easily side-stepping the tension.

“There’s a box of a few odds and ends, but we’d hoped to save them for the actual dance itself,” Katya explains. “We’re gotten a little caught up on this…detail. And that’s the only paint color we’ve got, unfortunately. ”

Trixie walks a slow circle around the sad-looking booth, as though it’s a challenge she’s debating whether or not to take on. “We can use that paint, ugly as it is,” she decides. “We can get a few gauze pads from Nurse Dela and make do with those for cobwebs. Katya, do you have an extra red lipstick you wouldn’t mind donating to the cause?”

Simple as it may be, the thought that Trixie has taken note of her occasional lip color makes Katya’s pulse quicken. “Yeah, I think I have one in my bag.”

Trixie smiles at her. “Fantastic. We’ll use that to write the sign, make it look nice and creepy. Any additional information can be put on a flyer that we’ll hand out.”

“Mrs. Davis will let us use the copier in the library,” Katya says, finding herself suddenly eager to be helpful.

“Then Violet and Ginger, maybe you two can make the flyers while Katya and I work on the booth,” Trixie suggests.

“Excellent idea,” Bianca agrees before Violent and Ginger have time to argue any more. “And I’ll join you ladies to make sure no one gets their teeth knocked in.” She stands slowly, rubbing a hand against her tailbone. “Also because this floor is not doing my old back any favors. Trixie, Katya—you two okay here?”

Trixie gives her an exaggerated thumbs up that’s so cute and dorky Katya can’t help but start giggling. Ginger and Violet grumble a bit but follow Bianca out nevertheless.

“Those two are impossible,” Katya murmurs when they’re gone. “Thank you for saving me.” She’s so grateful to be free of the complaining that she doesn’t even feel nervous to be alone with Trixie.

Yet.

“Anytime,” Trixie replies with a slow grin.

“You know, for all of your concern about people not liking you, you dealt with the two of them really well.”

“All of my concern about people liking me?” Trixie echoes. Katya winces, wishing she’d phrased that differently. But Trixie’s tone is still light. “It’s okay. I know I have my issues, but playing mediator isn’t one of them. I have a fair amount of practice.”

Katya hums in reply, because she knows that comment means a lot more than Trixie’s airy demeanor implies. “So, painting?” she prompts.

The paint is old and clumpy—not to mention Violet’s completely accurate description of it being puke-colored—but there are two brushes and Trixie and Katya are able to cover the entire booth fairly quickly.

When they’re done Trixie stands back with her hands on her hips, surveying their work. “Pretty good. Do you think it’ll need another coat?”

Katya considers the question, trying to find the honest answer rather than give the response that will allow her to spend more time with Trixie. Though in this case, she determines, they’re one and the same. “Yeah, I think so.”

Trixie nods. “Well, Nurse Dela has gone home already so we can’t get the gauze today. I think it’ll dry pretty fast. I don’t mind waiting if you don’t.”

Katya checks her wristwatch, surprised to discover that school actually ended about an hour ago. It feels like no time has passed at all, especially ever since Trixie showed up.

They sit against the wall while they wait for the paint to dry. Katya doesn’t have any homework and neither does Trixie, apparently, because she produces a rather worn issue of _Vogue_ from her backpack and starts thumbing through it. Katya doesn’t have a book, so she fiddles around on her phone, trying to appear interested in whatever she’s pretending to be looking at.

After several minutes Trixie makes a low whistling noise. She turns the magazine around to show Katya a picture of Cara Delevingne.

“She is _so hot_ ,” Trixie remarks, eyes still on the picture.

Katya’s stomach drops. “Um,” she says in reply. “Yeah, she is.” It could be a straight girl thing, she tells herself. Straight girls love talking about other girls they find hot.

“I don’t want to be too graphic,” Trixie continues, turning the magazine back around to herself, “but I want her to sit on my face, crush my windpipe, and hide my body.”

Katya blinks and tries to breathe.

That comment is decidedly less straight.

“Too far?” Trixie asks cheekily.

“Um,” Katya repeats, aware that she probably seems like an absolutely idiot. “No. I just…I thought you might be straight.”

Trixie’s mouth drops open like she’s genuinely offended. “Blasphemy! What would give you such a horrible idea?”

 _Because I didn’t let myself hope for anything else,_ Katya thinks, but instead says, “I don’t know, you had kind of an ally vibe. What with all the pink and… go-getting.” It sounds half-formed and vaguely offensive even to her own ears.

“And all the lesbians you know are apathetic goths?”

“No, just—”

“So you’re into toxic stereotypes about lesbianism. Got it,” Trixie interrupts before breaking into a huge smile at Katya’s startled expression. “Bitch, I’m kidding.”

“I’m gay too, by the way,” Katya says in a rush.

Trixie arches an eyebrow. “Yeah, I know.”

Katya has no clue what that means or what she’s supposed to make of this conversation as a whole. She doesn’t get a chance to ask any follow-up questions because Trixie has popped up from her seated position, letting _Vogue_ and Cara Delevingne’s smirking face slip onto the hard floor.

“Paint’s dry,” Trixie announces, running a hand along the top of the booth. She dips one of the paintbrushes into the dusty old can and extends it toward Katya. “Come help me. Please.” Her voice is just a touch whiny, but it almost seems on purpose, like she might have an idea of what that does Katya.

On purpose or not, it works. Of course it works. Katya rises from the ground, powerless to do anything but exactly what Trixie asks of her.

As they start to paint in silence, all Katya can think is that she is truly, royally fucking screwed.


	6. Chapter 6

“So, we’re good on decorations, Michelle has snacks covered, and that godforsaken booth is finally finished,” Katya reports, working through her mental checklist. “And Kennedy’s on music. I think the dance is a go!”

Trixie smiles approvingly. “I’m impressed. You’re so organized!”

Katya shakes her head, even though she likes the compliment. “Oh mama, I’m just trying to keep up with you.”

“You keep up fine. Even on your short little legs.”

“My legs are not short!” Katya insists with faux outrage. “They’re perfectly proportioned!”

“I agree,” Trixie says. “You’ve got good legs, girl.”

Katya’s eyes widen, though she tries to take the comment in stride, continuing to walk down the hallway alongside Trixie as though everything is normal. Trixie’s been doing that more and more lately, making little comments that sound flirtatious or slightly suggestive. Katya has been working hard not to dwell on them, but she can’t deny that they effect her.

“What kind of music do you think Kennedy will pick?” she asks, hoping that redirecting the conversation might help redirect her thoughts as well.

“Probably not the old man music that I listen to,” Trixie replies. “Which is a good thing, since we want people to actually enjoy themselves.” She nods in the direction of the classroom up ahead of them. “I have Courtney’s group now. Wanna come?”

“Which group is that?” Katya asks. She knows that Courtney runs a number of support groups, more than any other teacher at WOW.

“This one’s for queer freshman. Or ‘freshpeople,’ as Courtney calls them. It’s basically a question and answer thing, and she has a few out seniors help field questions. Present company included.” Trixie loftily tosses her hair behind her shoulder. It’s lavender now, in preparation for Halloween, and it somehow makes her even more magnetic to look at. “Courtney loves having new energy in the room, if you want to come,” she adds.

Katya considers the offer. Going to Courtney’s group kind of defeats her whole “don’t get involved” strategy. But Trixie seems like she genuinely wants Katya there, and Katya has been curious about Courtney ever since her conversation with Mrs. Davis.

“Okay,” she agrees.

Trixie grins. “Great. Let’s go.”

The group is pretty small, about the same size as Miss Fame’s, which instantly helps Katya relax. There are about eight freshman—or freshpeople—and she knows who all of them are. Farrah and Aja are sitting together, holding hands. Laila smiles when she sees Katya, and Blair gives her a little wave. As for the other seniors, Katya is surprised to see Kim and Naomi sitting on stools at the front of the room beside Courtney.

“You guys are…” she says with confusion as she approaches them.

Naomi’s brow furrows. “Um, yeah?”

Kim laughs quietly. “Katya, we’re a _couple_.”

Trixie nudges Katya as she produces two more stools for them to sit on. “You didn’t know about Kim and Naomi either?”

Katya smacks a hand to her forehead. “Clearly, my gaydar is broken.”

“Just assume everyone’s gay,” Trixie whispers as Courtney stands up to check in with the freshpeople. “That’s what I do. It’s way more fun that way.”

Courtney circles back to Katya at the front of the room. “Hi, Katya. I’m so glad you could join us today. Do you have any questions for me before we start?”

Katya knew she wouldn’t be able to slip in unannounced with such a small group, but the question startles her nonetheless. The way Courtney addressed her without hesitation makes Katya feel like they aren’t strangers, like she’s a fully known entity to Courtney, despite the fact that Katya’s never been in her class or spoken with her.

“I don’t think so,” she replies.

“Okay,” Courtney says. “Well, if anything does come up, please let me know. We try to speak from our own experience here. This group is all about respect, and one of our mottos is that there’s no such thing as a stupid question.”

Katya’s heard that phrase before, but she really believes it coming from Courtney, who is at once soft-spoken and also clearly not a bullshitter. All the same, the sincerity makes Katya nervous. She twists her fingers together as Courtney starts the introductions, feeling suddenly in the spotlight. What knowledge could she possibly impart on these fourteen-year-olds? She’s a screw up, a drug addict, and though she’s more or less out of the closet, she’s also never been in an actual relationship with a girl.

She can feel herself starting to spiral, right here on a hard metal stool at the front of the classroom. She takes a slow, deep breath in an attempt to steady herself, although the exhale is shaky and unconvincing. Trixie must hear it, because she looks over at Katya and offers her a small thumbs up. It’s not cheesy and silly like the one she gave Bianca, but actually kind of comforting and sweet.

Katya refocuses on Courtney’s pretty voice. She’s checking in with Blair about something, and when Katya listens, she realizes that it’s regarding Blair’s sobriety.

“It’s hard, y’know?” Blair says softly. “I have a problem, and I’m figuring it out. But I didn’t expect to be dealing with something like this at such a young age.”

Katya can certainly relate to that. “Girl, I _know_ ,” she replies before she can think to formulate the perfect response. “When I was going through recovery, I had the exact same thought. I kept thinking, _I haven’t even lived that long, and I’ve already ruined my entire life._ But then I realized that drugs always had the potential to be a problem for me, whether I started when I was fifteen or thirty-five. And maybe it’s better that I figured that shit out now rather than wasting a bunch more years down the line.” She winces, turning toward Courtney. “Was that okay? Sorry for swearing.”

Courtney’s eyes are warm. “This is a safe space for swearing. Thank you for being so vulnerable with us, Katya.”

“I don’t know if that helps at all,” Katya directs to Blair.

Blair smiles slightly. “It does. Just knowing someone else has gone through a similar experience.”

“Miss Fame’s group is really awesome,” Katya tells her. “Or at least it is for me. Intense, sure. But so is life.”

“Thanks,” Blair says. “Maybe I’ll try it.”

After that interaction, Katya’s nerves melt away. She spends much of the rest of the hour listening. Courtney mostly plays mediator, letting the freshpeople guide the group with their questions and the seniors take the lead on answering, and steering the group in the right direction when necessary. Kim and Naomi offer some advice to Farrah and Aja regarding being out as a couple at WOW, and when Naomi makes a comment about love making everything worth it, Katya can’t help but sneak a glance at Trixie, who’s staring straight ahead. Trixie seems to have a comfortable rapport with most of the group, and she’s especially able to connect with Dusty about growing up in an oppressive home. She doesn’t mention the personal details that she shared with Katya, but it’s still quite clear to everyone that she speaks from experience.

At the end of the hour, Courtney dismisses the freshpeople first and then thanks the seniors for being there. Naomi and Kim walk off hand-in-hand, and when Trixie gets up to leave Courtney asks Katya to hang back.

“I would love for you to join us again in the future,” Courtney says. “I think your words meant a lot to Blair. The more unique perspectives this group can provide, the more students will start to feel seen. And when people feel seen, they feel like they matter. Like they belong.”

Katya nods, her eyes suddenly starting to sting. “It’s cool what you’re doing here.”

“Thank you,” Courtney replies. “My door is always open, you know.” She smiles. “And the meditation group would greatly benefit from someone with your expert yoga knowledge.”

Katya shakes her head. “Mrs. Davis ratted me out?”

“She may have mentioned a thing or two. Said you might need a little push. I’m not really in the business of pushing students, but since you walked through my door, I figured, why not bring it up? If you aren’t interested I won’t be offended.”

“I am interested,” Katya decides, right then and there. “I’m just not sure how I’d do as a teacher.”

“I understand that concern,” Courtney acknowledges. “But, I dunno. Something tells me you might be a natural.”

\--

School dances, much like parties, are events that Katya tends to avoid. Best case scenario: there’s too much social interaction, and she starts to get overwhelmed. Worst case scenario: someone decides to “amp up the party” with some type of chemical enhancement that Katya has to spend the entire night actively dodging. Ultimately, the negatives usually far outweigh any positives, which means that Katya has attended a grand total of zero school dances since starting at WOW.

But the Halloween dance is different. It has to be, because as a member of the senior art show planning committee, Katya is obligated to show up. Luckily, she has a job, and it seems to be a job that no one else wants: working the booth out front. Katya likes the simple routine of it: taking a bill, handing back a ticket and a pamphlet, saying, “Have fun!” or expressing gratitude when someone compliments her mildly-scary-definitely-not-sexy witch costume. Katya technically isn’t even _inside_ the dance; she’s in the doorway. Ginger has swung by a couple of times offering to trade posts—she’s is inside selling snacks, though she and Kennedy have been switching off throughout the night—but Katya assures her that she’s content.

That is, of course, until she feels a soft hand on her shoulder and smells some familiar, sweet perfume.

 _Trixie_.

That’s been the other advantage of working the booth. The dance may not be providing temptation in the form of drugs, but certainly Trixie is providing a whole other brand of it. Especially in her skintight black bodysuit painted to look like a skeleton.

Katya turns her head to look at Trixie’s face— _just her face,_ she reminds herself—which is close enough that Trixie has to rock back on her heels so their noses don’t brush. It’s an awkward position, what with Katya twisted around in a chair and Trixie half-crouching, but that does nothing to quell Katya’s desire.

“You should let me take over,” Trixie tells her, breath warm and minty on Katya’s face. “Or, y’know what? Let’s make Violet do it. She hasn’t done a damn thing today, and the dance is halfway over already.”

Katya bites her lip. “I don’t know. This is my post.”

“Girl, we’re not in freakin’ _Forrest Gump_. You’re allowed to leave your post.”

Katya laughs, which seems to please Trixie. For the first time all night, the idea of staying at the booth seems a little lonely. The idea of being _anywhere_ without Trixie seems a little lonely.

“Will you get Violet?” she asks.

Trixie waggles her eyebrows conspiratorially. “Of course!”

Violet is surprisingly fine with working the booth, announcing that her feet hurt from dancing anyway. Katya gets Violet up to speed and then follows Trixie into the crowded auditorium. The turnout is both impressive and overwhelming; she knows it’ll be great for the art show but perhaps not so great for her mental health in this moment. But Trixie doesn’t leave her side, instead taking Katya’s hand and leading her out on the dance floor.

The music is pretty clubby, definitely not the kind that they’re going to share a slow dance to, which is fine by Katya. Most of the students around them seem totally into it, alternating between grinding and jumping up and down. Katya tries to let go and allow herself to get lost in the music, though she observes with amusement that Trixie doesn’t really seem to be having an easier time.

Trixie notices her smile and rolls her eyes. “Told you this wouldn’t be my jam.”

“That’s okay,” Katya replies, having to raise her voice more than is comfortable to be heard. “It’s not mine either.”

“We’re a couple of dorks, aren’t we?”

“Guess we’re perfect for each other,” Katya retorts.

The implications of the statement take a second to reach her—damn her stupid brain, always moving too fast without actually  _thinking_ —but by the time she’s able to access her mortification Trixie is grinning from ear to ear. Katya bites back an apology, instead letting the moment settle between them.

The song comes to a close and another one starts up, this one equally clubby but one Katya is actually a little familiar with. She’s able to move without getting completely in her head, running her hands along her body in a way that she hopes is more coyly suggestive than gross or pornographic. How ever it’s coming across, she seems to have Trixie’s attention, because Trixie has pretty much stopped dancing to watch Katya.

Katya decides to go all in, glancing around her to make sure she has enough space before slowly dropping into a split. It was a favorite party trick at her old school, and though she’s out of practice and her witch dress bunches at her hips, she’s still able to go all the way down without falling over. Trixie’s eyes stay on her the entire time, and Katya surprises herself by not looking away.

“Fuck,” Trixie says simply as Katya gets back to her feet and straightens her costume.

“It’s my one talent,” Katya says nonchalantly, though the way she feels right now is anything but nonchalant. Her stomach feels like it’s still on the floor, her skin is on fire. And it has everything to do with the way Trixie is continuing to look at her.

“Something tells me that isn’t your only talent,” Trixie replies.

Katya shrugs, tries to brush off the heat coiling in her body. They’re both kind of just standing there in the middle of a crowd of people, which is totally weird. Or at least it _should_ be, but Katya barely registers anyone around them.

“Yeah,” she manages to get out, injecting whatever confidence she can muster into her tone. “I guess I might just have a few tricks up my sleeve.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter is delayed and also on the short side, but I hope you all enjoy it nonetheless!

Katya is supposed to be studying, but Trixie is distracting her without even trying.

Katya’s at the restaurant where Trixie works, tucked into a corner booth with her calculus book and now empty plate in front of her. It’s a Wednesday evening, and the restaurant isn’t very busy, but Trixie is the only server on right now, so she hasn’t exactly had time to chat.

Katya isn’t complaining, though, because from where she’s sitting, she gets to watch Trixie go back and forth between the kitchen and her tables. Trixie’s hair is back to blonde, pulled into a high ponytail that bounces when she walks, and she’s dressed as modestly as Katya’s ever seen her in black pants and a white polo. The outfit doesn’t matter; Katya still can’t tear her eyes away. There’s something about watching Trixie in this different atmosphere—outside of the cozy confines of WOW and in a place where she has to be extra serious and on top of her game—that Katya finds captivating.

Captivating and weirdly hot _._

Trixie catches her eye on the way back to the kitchen and Katya glances away, feeling the color rise in her cheeks. But Trixie merely smiles, wiggling her fingers in a quick wave before disappearing again.

Katya has to remind herself: she didn’t just show up out of the blue—Trixie invited her here. Earlier today she’d approached Katya and said, _“You should come by toward the end of my shift. I can get you a free dinner and we can hang out after.”_ Katya is certain of the phrasing; she repeated the exact words back to herself a few times, trying to catch any hidden messages in Trixie’s tone.

Trixie wants her here. Whatever the reason, that fact remains true.

On Trixie’s next trip back from the kitchen she stops by Katya’s table, a bright pink milkshake in her hand.

“They put in too much ice cream,” she explains as she sets the milkshake down in front of Katya. “Which is, like, the definition of a first-world problem. But I thought you might like it.”

Katya narrows her eyes, unsure if Trixie is telling the truth or indirectly flirting again. She decides that those options aren’t mutually exclusive.

“I’m sure with that bod you don’t drink a lot of milkshakes,” Trixie continues, wiping the condensation from the glass off her hands. “One won’t kill you, though.”

“Oh, I can eat anything,” Katya replies. When she hears how that sounds, she says her next sentence in a voice that sounds vaguely like a Kardashian’s: “I just eat whatever I want and my body never seems to gain any weight. It’s like, _so weird.”_

Trixie glares. “I hate you so fucking much.”

Katya cackles and takes a sip of the milkshake. Or she tries to, but it truly is so thick that it gets clogged in the straw. She gives up and reaches for her spoon instead. “This is, like, _you_ as a milkshake.”

Trixie cocks an eyebrow. “What do you mean? Because it’s too thick and can’t help getting stuck?” She frowns. “Ugh, I think I just shaded myself.”

Katya shakes her head, trying not to overthink her next statement. “No, because it’s pink and pretty and a little too much. In the best possible way.”

Trixie bites her lip, smiling. “Well, that might be the nicest food comparison I’ve ever heard.”

“I aim to please.”

“And you managed to do it without singing 'Milkshake,' so points for restraint, I guess.”

Katya laughs again. “You’re keeping score? How many points do I got, girl?” she asks, feeling bold.

Trixie’s smile widens. “Not sure exactly,” she replies as she starts to walk away. “But I think you’re in the lead.”

Katya mentally gives up on the prospect of her homework getting completed as she watches Trixie go.

\--

After Katya’s positive experience attending Courtney’s freshpeople group, she starts joining Trixie on a semi-regular basis. The group meets a couple of times a week, and while the atmosphere is certainly serious and respectful, seniors and freshpeople alike are free to attend casually. That lack of required commitment is something Katya appreciates immensely.

Courtney is very easy to talk to, and Katya finds herself and the other seniors frequently lingering after the group to chat with her. On one such day, when it’s just Courtney, Katya and Trixie, the topic of the meditation class comes up again.

“You know,” Courtney murmurs, her tone taking on that not-pushing-but-lovingly-guiding quality that it gets sometimes. “We have to have our second-semester schedules nailed down by the end of November. So…”

“So I need to shit or get off the pot,” Katya supplies. “I get it.”

“Well, I wouldn’t put it like that. But I think a decision would be helpful. Just think about what you'd like to do.” Thankfully, Courtney leaves it at that.

Trixie, on the other hand, does not. “What was that about?” she asks Katya as they leave the classroom and start heading in the direction of the library.

Katya sighs. “Courtney wants me to teach yoga with her. Or, well, she’d probably say that she ‘wants me to feel empowered to teach yoga if it’s an experience I feel I might benefit from.’” Katya’s Australian accent is rough, but she more or less nails Courtney’s inflection.

Trixie’s face lights up. “Well, first of all—rad Courtney impression. And second of all, that’s such a great idea!”

“You think?” Katya replies, trying to mask just how much she values Trixie’s opinion.

“Oh, _fully_. You’d do an awesome job!”

Katya shakes her head. “I have no freakin’ clue how to teach.”

“But this isn’t, like, ancient Egyptian history. You _know_ about yoga,” Trixie points out. “How complicated could it be? Besides, anyone who signs up for a Courtney class is going to be pretty chill.”

The library is mostly empty, but Katya leads them to a table in the corner so they can keep talking. “Have you ever done yoga before?” she asks, an idea starting to form.

“Nope, I’m a virgin,” Trixie replies as she pulls her chair out.

Katya freezes, nearly choking on her spit as Trixie’s face turns red.

“I mean—that’s not what I mean,” Trixie stutters. “I…Nope. Should’ve just gone with 'nope.'”

Katya sits down, clearing her throat. “Well, um…”

“Why?” Trixie interjects. “Did you want to do some kind of teaching trial run with me?”

Trixie put the thought in her head, and now Katya can’t help but make a mental joke about her taking Trixie’s yoga virginity, which is certainly not an image that she needs to verbalize. Instead she says, “Maybe?” A weak response, to be sure, especially since Trixie impressively guessed Katya’s line of thinking.

“I’m game if you are,” Trixie replies.

“Really?”

“ _Totally._ ” Trixie sounds sincere. “You can get a taste for teaching in a way that's completely low-pressure. And I’ve been told that I’m a pretty good student.”

Everything is starting to sound like a double entendre to Katya, and it’s making her mind feel cloudy. But when she focuses on Trixie’s words, it occurs to her how much Trixie seems to believe in her. Courtney, too. It’s kind of remarkable. It feels like if she doesn’t take this opportunity, she wouldn’t just be letting them down, but she’d be letting herself down, too. Which at the end of the day, might be just as bad.

“That would be amazing,” Katya says honestly. “Thank you."

Trixie beams. “I’m happy to do it. And hey, I’ll get to learn a few things. Not a bad deal.”

“You say that now, but just wait until your boobs are sitting in a puddle of their own sweat and your legs are shaking so bad you can’t stand.”

“Sounds sexy,” Trixie quips, though she does look mildly concerned.

“It really is,” Katya assures her. When Trixie’s eyebrows fly up, Katya waves her hands apologetically. “No, I don’t mean _sexy._ More like…grounding. Helpful, even.”

Trixie shrugs. “As long as I get to wear a cute outfit. And don’t have to use a grody mat.”

“You won’t,” Katya promises. “We have extra mats at my house, nice ones. My back deck is really awesome in the evening for yoga, and you could probably have dinner after.” Her words come out in a rush—she’s trying to make this sound as nice as possible for Trixie—and she doesn’t fully realize what she’s said until she notes the surprise on Trixie’s face.

“Katya, did you just invite me over?” Trixie asks with exaggerated shock. “To your _house_? Where you _live?_ ”

Katya rolls her eyes. “Oh, shut up,” she mutters, though she’s privately graceful that they can joke about this.

Trixie’s smirk is at once infuriating and incredibly hot. “It’s a big step.”

Katya leans forward a little in her chair. “How many points for that?” she shoots back.

Trixie’s smirk gives way to a genuine smile. “I think you damn near broke the scoreboard.”

Katya grins back stupidly. Underneath the table, their ankles are touching.


End file.
